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Anders Gyllenhaal

Will he ever take off? Learning patience the hawk way

by Anders Gyllenhaal March 1, 2019

written by Anders Gyllenhaal

I spotted the hawk from about 50 feet away, perched on a dead tree where he could watch over the Central Florida marsh as if he ruled the place.

I stopped about 30 feet back, and stood as still as I could, hoping for a chance at a photo if this elegant Red-shouldered Hawk decided to take off.

And then I waited. First through an easy 10 minutes, then another 15 not-so-easy minutes, then at least 10 more interminable minutes. I watched as he swiveled his head, glanced up and down and fluffed his feathers without giving a clue to his intentions. As the sweat dripped down my back, I started thinking about giving up.

Birding is a lesson in patience on so many fronts. There are days when all you hear are calls from distant branches. There are mornings when the birds are always backlit or camouflaged. There are whole afternoons when not one bird makes a sound.

I like to think it’s all part of the curriculum that comes with the birds. At a time when we’re so attention deprived, birding is a graduate course in alternative time.

March 1, 2019 2 comments

Birding Birds stories Flight Photography

The White Ibis — graceful and awkward at once — is a sight to see

by Anders Gyllenhaal February 19, 2019

written by Anders Gyllenhaal

When the White Ibis is soaring, it’s a magnificent and graceful bird, from its black-tipped wings to its long, curved, signature beak.

When an Ibis comes in for a landing, on the other hand, it turns into a gawky and awkward comic. It’s hard to tell its wings from its tail feathers.

Those are just two of the varied performances the Ibis delivers as it patrols the wetlands of the southeastern United States. While it mixes with the Egrets, Herons and Anhingas with which it shares the marshes, the Ibis stands out for its distinctive profile and personality.

All this helps make it a symbol of the marshes – and a bird to watch for both its beauty and its health as one of the coastal species under pressure. Particularly in Florida, where the Ibis is most plentiful, researchers say its numbers are nonetheless diminishing with the steady loss of habitat.

As the climate has changed, the Ibis has slowly expanded its reach. You can find them as far north as the Carolinas, depending on the season, as this map from the Cornell Lab of Ornithology shows.

They’re not hard to spot; that’s partly because of their long, pink beaks they use to sift for crustaceans, fish and insects, and partly because they’re rarely alone. They fly, feed – and just hang out – in groups of dozens of birds.

The other day, we encountered a full community of White Ibis gathered on the northern tip of Jekyll Island, Georgia, one of the sea islands where limits on development make room for wildlife. When we approached a small bridge over the marshes, a dozen Ibis were jostling for position on two narrow railings.

It made for a comedy routine you couldn’t stop watching. They all wanted to be on first one railing, then on the other. They jumped off and traded places, pointing their distinctive beaks every which way. Then they lined up in near perfect profile as if ready for inspection.

At times, the Ibis will be bashful and flee when they see you. Other times, they’ll put up with visitors and allow a good look. That day on Jekyll Island, they didn’t seem to mind our presence and stood posing for all the pictures we could take.

Here’s a gallery from that day, as well as encounters with Ibis all across the Southeast the past few years:

An Ibis on North Carolina's National Seashore balances precariously for a good view.

Coming in for a landing on Jekyll Island

Flying in formation above Carolina's Mattamuskeet Refuge.

Two Ibises tangle in the air on Jekyll's bridge.

A Glossy Ibis, a cousin to the White Ibis, forages in central Florida near Stick Marsh.

A juvenile, with its brown feathers, feeds on Hatteras Island, N.C.

A juvenile Ibis in flight

February 19, 2019 1 comment

Bird of the Week

What’s red all over — and hard to find? Here’s a Valentine of a Bird

by Anders Gyllenhaal February 11, 2019

written by Anders Gyllenhaal

The Summer Tanager, the only completely red bird in North America, is our Bird of the Week in honor of Valentine’s Day.

It’s easy to see the male’s deep red coloring on the cover of a Valentine’s Day card. But this goes further than feathers. Like true love, the Summer Tanager isn’t easy to find. He tends to stay above the fray, in the high branches of the forest, usually playing hard to get.

If you want a glimpse, you have to go looking for him – and be ready to commit to a sometimes lengthy search.

I’ll always remember our first encounter with a Summer Tanager, which came four years ago on Maryland’s Eastern Shore near Pocomoke City. True to form, this bird was little more than a flash of bright red at the top of a tall tree. He’s easy to mistake for a Cardinal – but then you notice that the color is more vivid and the beak is entirely different. Plus he sings a distinctive song, somewhat like a Robin, but in a kind of slurred whistle.

I spent the rest of the afternoon looking for this seductive bird, which by then I figured out was a tanager. Shortly before the sun went down, he returned: As red as a ripe tomato, offering his striking profile for just long enough to catch a few photos. Not far away was the female tanager, identical in form but dressed all in yellow.

It was a sight worth waiting for.

Birders in most of the U.S. will have to wait before seeing this Bird of the Week. The tanagers spend their winters on a romantic trip to South America. By the time they return in the spring, Valentine’s Day will be long since passed – but here’s one more photo to celebrate the tanager’s striking beauty and hold a spot in your heart for this magnificent species.

February 11, 2019 0 comment

Birding Birds stories Featured Photography Species

Chasing the Kingfisher — five years and one lucky day

by Anders Gyllenhaal February 7, 2019

written by Anders Gyllenhaal

Every birder has a favorite species or two. Mine has always been the Belted Kingfisher, partly because this elegant speed demon is so elusive.

For five years I’ve been trying to get a photo in mid-flight, but it’s been like catching a shadow. The Belted Kingfisher is so skittish and moves with such unpredictable twists and turns, he comes up mostly as a blur.

That is, until the other day.

My fascination with the Kingfisher goes back to my first encounter in Huntley Meadows Park in Northern Virginia, where I found one patrolling a swampy lake. I caught just a glimpse of him zipping about, but that’s all it took.

I managed this slightly fuzzy photo in the Alligator Preserve in North Carolina.

Kingfishers prefer shallow water where they can spot fish from the air. They like to fly along the banks, and then perch in a tree on the water’s edge. It’s as if to taunt a birder into thinking you might get a clear shot if you can just get a little closer. Half the time these sightings occur in swamp-like areas, so this can be a murky and muddy pursuit.

The Kingfisher’s Elvis look

Part of the Kingfisher’s appeal for me is its striking appearance. The Kingfisher looks like a cross between a military officer in a crisp uniform and a surly teenager with spiked hair. When it spreads its wings the Kingfisher looks like Elvis in his most outlandish getup.

February 7, 2019 7 comments

Bird of the Week

Why we should skip Groundhog Day and look for Red-winged Blackbirds instead

by Anders Gyllenhaal February 2, 2019

written by Anders Gyllenhaal

Today is Groundhog Day, and though Punxsutawney Phil had good news early this morning, he’s usually wrong. It’s time to switch to a better predictor — and it turns out there’s one waiting in the wings: The Red-winged Blackbird.

The blackbird, one of the first birds to return on its spring migration, will start showing up in just a few weeks. That’s a signal of spring you can trust — and spot in almost every state of the union with its brilliant red patches atop jet-black feathers.

The Red-winged Blackbird can be found hanging out in marshes, waterways, ditches and even city parks. This bird isn’t shy or quiet: The blackbird’s got a striking, stuttering song — and can often be seen gripping the tallest stalks, sometimes swinging in the wind, as if on stage.

Most wonderful of all, while its red patches may be hidden when stationary, they stand out like colorful shoulder pads when the birds take flight.

Although most Red-winged Blackbirds migrate, they don’t travel as far as many birds do. So as they begin to move north in mid February (with males ahead of females), you’ll see them in higher latitudes before spring even thinks about arriving.

February 2, 2019 1 comment

Birding Birds stories Migration

These ducks were out to make fools of us — and boy did they ever

by Anders Gyllenhaal January 22, 2019

written by Anders Gyllenhaal

We hadn’t been birding in a while because of miserable weather, so we were anxious to get out last weekend and see the ducks and geese that take up residence on Maryland’s eastern shore every winter.

The waterways were jammed with ducks, most of them Canadian Geese you could hear from half a mile away.

We could hear the Canadian Geese as we approached the Wye Island refuge just off the Chesapeake Bay — literally thousands of them filled waterways and fields. There were also supposed to be lots of Black Ducks, Mallards, Tundra Swans and Buffleheads.

Then we turned a corner and saw two or three dozen Canvasbacks visible through the marsh grass in an expanse of salt water a few yards away. We pulled off the road in a rush. I went to the back of the car to set up my camera while Beverly grabbed her binoculars.

We spotted the Canvasbacks through the reeds — and went right to work.

Luckily, a thick wedge of grasses hid us as we crept up. It was windy and overcast so the light wasn’t favorable, but it looked like we could get closer than we’d ever been to this large of a flock.

I started shooting before there was even a clear view: You never know when they’ll take flight, so I wanted to be ready. Beverly headed one way and I went the other as we gradually moved to the edge of the marsh for a direct look.

Even as we got close, the ducks didn’t seem fazed. The waves kicked up in the wind, but they held their places as if they wanted to be sure we got a nice photo. I finally found a break in the reeds and managed a full look at our quarry. The realization hit me.

January 22, 2019 1 comment

Birding Birding research Featured Migration

How birders are helping to unravel mysteries of the migrations

by Anders Gyllenhaal January 17, 2019

written by Anders Gyllenhaal

The new Cornell maps of bird migrations look for all the world like works of art: great swaths of color splash across digital canvasses that would be at home on the walls of a modern art museum.

This map reflects the migration travels of the Pied-billed Grebe, with the different colors showing the stops over the course of a year.

They are also the most powerful tools yet for deciphering the inner workings of the migrations each spring and fall. As if that’s not enough, the maps could hold the key to determining how birds are adapting to global warming.

“The amount of information in these maps is way beyond what any single source or even combination of sources could give you,’’ said Marshall Iliff, project leader for Cornell’s eBird program. “It’s on a scale that’s never been done before.’’

The Cornell Lab of Ornithology announced the latest phase of its mapping project two months ago to only limited fanfare in the early going. That’s likely to change as word gets out and more animations are added beyond the first 107 species.

What sets the new maps apart is the way they come alive with the click of a button. You suddenly see a species’ entire migration unfold, moving south over the course of the fall and then back north during the spring. The maps are fueled

Mapping the Bald Eagle: see below for an animated version.

by the tens of millions of bird lists sent in by 120,000 birders across the hemisphere. The animations are then adjusted with a stew of scientific, satellite and wildlife data to approximate and in some cases predict how the collective birds will move.

Marshall Iliff

As a result, the animations are one of the most ambitious scientific crowd-sourcing experiments underway anywhere today. “We’re really excited about it,’’ said Iliff. “It’s definitely big data ornithology. It’s a whole new concept.’’

( Click here for an index of the 107 species in the first phase of the project. Click here to explore that data behind the maps, which can help birders find hotspots and explore raw observations about species. And click here for the introduction to the eBird maps).

January 17, 2019 0 comment

Bird of the Week Birding

Bird of the Week: A perfect guy to brighten winter

by Anders Gyllenhaal January 7, 2019

written by Anders Gyllenhaal

The Northern Cardinal in its winter glory.

The male Northern Cardinal is at its best this time of year. In the winter months when the landscape turns its most drab, the Cardinal’s red plumage actually becomes brighter. It’s as if the Cardinal was sent along to provide a flash of color just when we need it most.

Last weekend, on a birding walk along the Potomac in Northern Virginia, the trees were bare, skies gray, and the river itself ran a somber brown. We started walking back to the car without seeing a single bird. Suddenly two male Cardinals swept by and perched in the trees just ahead.

January 7, 2019 1 comment

Birding Featured Photography

How a lake disappeared — and an unexpected gift took its place

by Anders Gyllenhaal January 3, 2019

written by Anders Gyllenhaal

Here’s a story to help transport us to the opposite end of the calendar as winter sets in: We traveled nearly 10,000 miles this past summer in search of birds and new places — and the unexpected was often waiting along the way.

One of those stops in mid June was at Mississippi’s Trace State Park, which was promoted as a magnificent lake-front campground just off the Natchez Trace Parkway near Tupelo.

The lakefront was just overgrown weeds — many waist high.

When we pulled up to our waterfront campsite, a surprise awaited. The lake was missing — and in its place was a sprawling field of weeds, brush and brambles stretching as far as we could see.

We learned later that the lake was drained a full three years earlier after the dam showed signs of wear. They’d been working on it ever since in utmost slow motion without bothering to update the website or let folks know the prime camping spots lacked any actual water.

Red-winged Blackbird at the lake that wasn’t.

We thought about turning around and driving on. Who wants to look out over an empty lake bed for three days? But it was late afternoon so we decided to stay at least for the night.

And then we noticed something unusual: A symphony of bird songs was coming from the field where the lake use to be. We stood listening to be sure we weren’t imagining it, then quit setting up camp and ran for binoculars and my camera and powered up the birding apps.

Within an hour we had spotted Indigo Buntings, Blue-gray Gnatcatchers, Red-winged Blackbirds, and lots of goldfinches, starlings and cardinals. It was the beginning of three days of terrific birding — far better than any lake view could have been.

As an added offering, our timing put us in the middle of the first flights and early worm-hunting lessons from a new generation of birds as they left the nest. Here is a mix of what we saw:

The field where the lake used to be was rich in birdlife, including juvenile and mature Indigo Buntings, Goldfinches, Orchard Orioles, Eastern Kingbirds, Savannah Sparrows, Tufted Titmice, Chickadees and Red-winged Blackbirds.

Indigo Bunting